


Not Your Average Chick Flick

by LadySlytherin



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: M/M, Mpreg, Slash
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-06-26
Updated: 2013-06-26
Packaged: 2017-12-16 05:32:00
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,003
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/858391
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LadySlytherin/pseuds/LadySlytherin
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>When Draco Malfoy forgets the night he spends with Harry Potter, Harry decides to let sleeping dogs – or in this case, dragons – lie. Then Harry finds out he’s pregnant. But before he can work up the courage to tell Draco the truth, Draco shows up to Harry’s childbirth classes with an equally-pregnant Pansy Parkinson on his arm. What’s a pregnant wizard to do?</p>
            </blockquote>





	Not Your Average Chick Flick

**Author's Note:**

> I found this ended up reading like the script for a gay chick-flick. Which was a bit outside my comfort zone, but I think I managed it well enough. A big thanks to my beta, TW, for her lovely efforts; any remaining errors are mine and mine alone. A gigantic thanks to Mod-Kitty for her amazing cheerleading and for letting me harass her throughout the writing of this. <3 ~ LS
> 
> Also, this was written for the HD_Mpreg Fest. <3 All the love for the Fest!!!

Harry wasn’t one to dwell on the how and why of things. He’d had quite enough of that during the War. So when his relationship with Ginny hadn’t lasted for much longer than it took to rebuild Hogwarts, Harry accepted that it just hadn’t been meant-to-be. And when - just a few short months later - Harry fell into bed with a man for the first time, he didn’t question that much either. He didn’t really see a reason to, since his bisexuality was easily accepted by those around him. In the aftermath of Voldemort’s destruction, there seemed to be little for Harry to question at all.

So when Harry somehow woke up in the bed of Draco Malfoy the night after the Annual Ministry Christmas Party the year he turned 22, Harry did his best not to question how he’d gotten there. A tell-tale soreness in a certain area was really all of the explanation he needed. That, and a hazy memory of the former-Death Eater above him - and inside of him - face twisted with pleasure. So Harry watched the other man sleep for a moment, his features softened in the early morning light, and then slipped away. He didn’t want to deal with an awkward morning-after; especially not with Malfoy, of all people. If the Unspeakable wanted to discuss what had happened between them, he knew where the Auror department was located. It wasn’t as though Harry was hard to track down.

But when he ran into Draco - very-nearly literally - in the Ministry’s Atrium a week later, there was no recognition or knowledge in those grey eyes. And Harry realized that Draco didn’t remember; that he had no idea he’d spent the night with Harry Potter. And as Harry stared up at the taller man, he found he couldn’t bring himself to say anything. And really, why should he? If Draco had been drunk enough to forget he’d had a one-off with his former-rival, then that was on him.

So Harry had let it lie. He’d told no one of whom he’d slipped off with that evening, and Draco remained blissfully ignorant of the whole thing. And when Harry went to St. Mungo’s three months later because he wasn’t feeling at all well, he got the biggest surprise of his life.

Some Wizards were born with a special gift; one that allowed them to become pregnant. It was, according to the Healer Harry spoke to, a gift that was often never noticed. Typically men only knew they _had_ the gift when they either got tested to see if they did because they _wanted_ to be pregnant, or when they accidentally wound up pregnant.

Like Harry had.

And based on the timing of it all - and the fact that his love-life had taken a backseat to his career these days - Harry _knew_ it was Draco Malfoy’s child growing inside him. And he knew, in a logical sort of way, that he ought to tell the other man. But the idea of walking up to the blonde months after the incident and saying, _“Oh, yes, by the way, you shagged me at the Christmas Party and now I’m pregnant...”_ was rather unappealing and just little bit terrifying. So Harry said nothing.

And now it had been _five_ months and Harry’s belly was rounding and the Daily Prophet was speculating and Harry hadn’t told _anyone_ who the father was. It was almost more than he could take.

Harry puffed up his cheeks for a moment, then smiled weakly at the man beside him as they entered St. Mungo’s. Harry was supposed to be attending childbirth classes and he hadn’t wanted to go alone. But Ron had seemed uncomfortable with the idea of being a “birthing coach” and Hermione had so much on her plate these days with the various causes she was working for. And it had seemed an incredibly rude imposition to even _ask_ Ginny, considering that they’d once dated. So Harry had been forced to think outside the box, which explained his current companion.

“Relax, mate.” George said with a grin. His blue eyes twinkled, which always made Harry smile to see; there’d been a time after the war where it seemed like George might never smile or laugh again. “You look like you might faint. These classes shouldn’t be that hard, based on what Bill told me, and you’re not going in alone, right? Maybe you’ll make some more friends, too, and your kids can all play together!”

Harry laughed softly, shaking his head. “Yeah, well. I’m not alone, anyway, like you said.” He put his hand on the doorknob and straightened his shoulders, muttering. “Let’s go in then, yeah?”

George nodded and Harry pushed the door open, keeping his eyes on the floor as he stepped into the cheerful room. It was painted in soothing nursery colors - pale pink and soft blue and mint green and muted yellow - and had mats and cushions on the floor for everyone to sit on. Harry moved swiftly to a station, with George following casually behind him. Once they were seated, Harry dared a peek up through his bangs. His heart stopped and everything in him froze at what he saw.

Green eyes locked with grey, then a sneer pasted itself across haughty features and Harry tore his eyes away as everything in him ached. Seated beside Draco Malfoy was Pansy Parkinson. Her dark hair fell in artfully-tousled layers around her heart-shaped face, with its sharp cheekbones and lush mouth. Her eyes were such a vibrant, startling blue that Harry imagined they’d draw attention across a crowded room. And her slender, curvy frame was sporting a distinctive roundness just below her rib cage. Pansy was pregnant, and curled up beside Draco Malfoy for childbirth classes.

Harry couldn’t breathe. Any thought of telling Malfoy the truth about the child growing inside him disappeared. He’d hold his tongue, no matter what.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

Draco watched as Harry dropped his head, his sneer still firmly in place. Then he turned to Pansy, who was looking distracted and a little wan, though he was probably the only one who’d notice. That happened when you knew someone as long as he’d known his best friend. Which was how he’d gotten suckered into attending these classes with his soon-to-be-single-mom friend. Pansy’s Muggle lover had bolted when learning she was pregnant and Pansy had let him; a man who couldn’t handle a child wasn’t man enough to handle her being a witch and she couldn’t be bothered to chase some worthless prat down. So she’d go it alone. But she hadn’t been able to face the classes by herself; she wanted a coach. And Draco had agreed, because he knew how much she was hurting right now.

Trying to cheer her up, Draco drawled softly. “Of course that Weasley has the male-pregnancy-gift; talk about a walking cliché!” He rolled his eyes and added thoughtfully. “Though I’m a bit surprised Potter shagged the Weasel’s brother. Thought he had a thing for the girl of the family.”

Pansy’s lips twitched and she rolled her eyes right back. “Really, Draco. You ought to read the papers a bit more often. It’s not the Weasley who’s knocked up; it’s Potter.” Her eyes flicked to the Savior and she added in a murmur. “The paper’s been speculating about the curve to his belly for the last month. I suppose this confirms it. Apparently he slipped off with some mystery-man at the Ministry’s Christmas Party, but no one’s managed to identify him. I suppose this clears _that_ up, as well. I bet Weasel hit the roof over his brother and business partner getting his best friend up the duff.”

Draco cast his mind back to that evening; as an Unspeakable, he’d had to attend. All Ministry employees had to make at least a cursory appearance, or get blasted for a lack-of-unity at their next department meeting. So Draco had gone, gotten quite drunk, and had an amazing evening of passionate sex with a man whose name he wasn’t sure he’d ever gotten and whose face he could barely recall. He knew the man had been shorter than himself, but at six feet tall that didn’t narrow it down much. He’d been fit, of course, but that wasn’t saying much either. Dark hair - brown? - and eyes Draco hazily recalled as a vivid, startling blue.

Draco had actually tried to find the man, making a point to stop into every department at the Ministry _several_ times in the month following the party. He had hoped if he just saw the man again, he would be able to remember more about him. He had finally been forced to accept that the man was _not_ at the Ministry; he must have been the brother or cousin or nephew of someone else. And Draco wasn’t exactly going to advertise that he couldn’t remember whom he’d spent the night with. So he’d mostly given up hope of finding the man again.

Struggling to remember if he’d seen Potter that night - alone, or with anyone - Draco found he couldn’t recall seeing him _at all_. Which was strange. Perhaps Harry had arrived after Draco had slipped off with his mystery lover. Or perhaps Harry had slipped off with George Weasley before Draco arrived. Or perhaps he’d been standing right beside Draco and Draco had simply been too drunk to remember. All of those were, of course, quite possible. Draco shrugged it off; it wasn’t really important.

“Well, whatever.” Draco nudged Pansy lightly, giving her a smile. “We can always switch to a different class, you know...”

“We’ll do no such thing.” Pansy retorted, laughing. It was a rich, full-bodied laugh and Draco had always loved it; it was so much better than the simpering-giggle she faked at parties. “You and Potter are grown men now, Draco. You can handle being in a room together. Besides, you can’t exactly duel a pregnant man; it wouldn’t be sporting.”

Draco wound his arms around Pansy, teasingly nibbling her neck and making her squirm and laugh as she playfully tried to shove him off. “You’re the worst!” She managed to scold breathlessly when he finally let her go. “I hope the instructor didn’t see that; she’ll make me find someone else to be my coach! Now be serious. I need you to actually _learn_ , you know.”

Draco smiled charmingly and batted his eyelashes at her, purring. “You know you love me, pet. And don’t worry; I’ll pay the strictest attention and be the best coach ever.”

Her lips still twitching as the instructor started the class, Pansy whispered. “You’d better, Draco. I really do need you right now.”

Draco took her hand in his, squeezing tightly to reassure her that, even if her child’s father had bailed out on her and even though her parents had disowned her for becoming pregnant outside the sanctity of wedding vows, she wasn’t alone. She had her best friend and always would. Draco would never leave Pansy to face anything alone.

And Draco was so focused on Pansy that he didn’t noticed the way Harry’s whole face closed off while he was comforting his best friend.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

A full month passed. Harry sat through an hour of childbirth classes every single week, doing his best to ignore the way Draco rubbed Pansy’s neck, squeezed her hand, and made her laugh. He struggled not to notice the way Pansy’s lovely face and vibrant eyes glowed when she smiled at Draco. He was also doing his best to pretend it wasn’t killing him. Harry actually considered switching to a different class, but with his schedule at work, this one really was the best for him. So he told himself it didn’t matter if Draco and Pansy were clearly starting a happy little family while Harry was pregnant with Draco’s other child and just kept going to the classes.

George’s support was the only thing that got him through. The older man was great at coaxing laughs from Harry and he was very good at remembering everything the instructor said. And he never asked why Harry seemed to need to cling to his hand, or rest against his side, during classes. And Harry greatly appreciated that George didn’t ask why, but simply laced their fingers together or wrapped Harry snugly in his arms. He didn’t know how he’d have faced this alone.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

On their fifth week of class, Pansy was forced to face it alone. Draco was working late and she sat on a cushion by herself after explaining to the instructor that her coach was absent for the week. Since the class was now focusing primarily on childcare, rather than childbirth, Pansy didn’t see that it mattered much if Draco was present anymore. Other than wanting his support, of course. The instructor simply waved her off; the woman didn’t seem to care that Pansy’s partner wasn’t present.

Pansy shrugged and settled into her usual spot on the floor. A few minutes later, her head came up in surprise when someone stopped next to her and cleared his throat. She looked up, wide-eyed, at George Weasley. “Yes?” She asked quietly.

“Sorry. Harry’s not here today and Madam-Stick-Up-Her-Arse said Malfoy’s not here either - though she didn’t know his name and just pointed - and she said I should pair with you for class.” George smiled easily at the pretty woman and added. “Assuming you don’t mind, of course.”

“Oh.” Pansy’s cheeks suffused with rosy color and she shook her head. “No, that’s fine. Please, sit.” When George sank onto the mat beside her, she held out her hand and said politely. “I don’t think we’ve been properly introduced. I’m Pansy Parkinson.”

George grinned widely and winked. “Yes, I know. You tried to hand Harry over to the Dark Lord.” When she paled and moved to pull her hand back, George snagged it and laughed. “Sorry. I’m teasing. I’m George Weasley, though I’m sure you know that.” He squeezed her hand a little, then turned it in his grasp, his eyebrows raising. “Huh. I expected a rock the size of the iceberg that sunk the Titanic.”

Pansy’s eyebrows knitted together as George finally released her hand. “I don’t understand what you just said...” She admitted, sounding a bit annoyed. “What do you mean, a rock?”

“A diamond.” George clarified, ignoring the rest of the expectant parents who were filing in and taking their seats. “You know, your engagement ring? Malfoy seems the sort to want to make it all official before the baby is born.”

Pansy’s eyes widened and she let out a startled laugh. But before she could correct George’s misconception, the instructor started the class. They were given magical dolls that cried until their needs were attended to, just like they had been the week before - and Pansy _hated_ the little thing, which sounded like a banshee and apparently was charmed to hate her. She glared down at its scrunched-up face as it thrashed in the pink blanket, wishing she knew how to shut it up.

“This bloody thing despises me.” She grumbled under her breath, forgetting for a moment that it wasn’t Draco beside her.

George rolled his eyes at her and took it from her arms. “You’ve got to figure out what’s wrong with it. I think that’s the whole point of this exercise.”

“I _know_ that!” Pansy snapped back, bristling. “But it’s a _doll_ and this just...it seems like such a waste of time, you know? I don’t _care_ what the thing wants as it’s _fake_.”

“It’s practice.” George, who already had two small children in his life - Victoire from Bill and Fleur, and Harry’s godson Teddy - swiftly checked the doll’s nappy, then charmed it clean.

When the doll continued to shriek, he took the fake bottle they’d been given and offered it. When the doll refused, turning its face away, George raised the child to his shoulder and began to pat its back. Pansy watched in awe as he stood and began to bounce and sway with the little thing. To her amazement, the doll quieted in a matter of moments. He grinned down at her and she got gracelessly to her feet. Her hands itched to try what George was doing.

“Show me how to do that.” She nearly begged, her hand gripping George’s upper arm tightly. “I swear, I’m utterly worthless with babies. I’m so worried she’ll hate me...”

George made a noise of distress as Pansy’s eyes filled with tears. “Oh, no; none of that! No crying. I don’t handle crying women well.” He shifted the doll to one arm and awkwardly patted Pansy’s back with his free hand. “Now come on...please stop...you’ll do fine. I’ll teach you how to rock and bounce and sway. Come on, now...smile for me.”

Pansy let out a watery laugh, dashing the tears from her face. “Sorry. It’s these damned hormones. Draco’s always teasing me about being moody.” She sniffled and held out her arms for the doll. “I’d be ever so grateful if you showed me what you just did. I really am hopeless, I think.”

George handed her the doll, showing her how to support its head. “You’re not hopeless.” He assured her, smiling. “It takes practice. I’ve got a niece and Harry’s godson that I’ve been around, so I’m an old pro at this, but you’ll get there.”

He stepped behind Pansy, his chest touching her back, and rested his hands lightly on her hips. “Now, I’ll show you how to move...just follow me. Like dancing.”

Pansy nodded, letting George’s body guide her through the motions. The doll - which had begun to whimper and squirm while she held it - settled quickly again. Its little glass eyes closed and it seemed to fall asleep, leaving Pansy feeling awed. She tipped her head back, looking up at George with a trembling smile. Her breath hitched when she realized how close their faces were in this position.

“Thank you...” She managed in the barest whisper. Her whole body swayed backwards slightly, leaning into the heat and strength of the man behind her.

George leaned down and Pansy thought for a heart-stopping moment that he might kiss her. Then he straightened quickly, blushing to the roots of his hair, and stepped away. “I’m sorry.”

Pansy’s mouth trembled; she didn’t do well with rejection. Then her eyes widened when she remembered George’s comment from earlier. “Draco and I aren’t together!” The words came out in a rush and she blushed darkly when George’s eyes widened. “I mean, it’s not his baby. He’s just a friend. My _best_ friend.” Then she frowned and muttered. “But you’re with Potter...right?”

George laughed, looking both relieved and amused. “No! No, Charlie’s the gay Weasley, not me. I’m just here as a friend. Harry’s been tight-lipped on the baby’s father.” He rolled his eyes, stepping closer to Pansy again and asking softly. “Where’s this one’s dad? You said it’s a girl, right?”

“What? Oh, yes.” Pansy nodded. “Her father was...well, he was a Muggle. And he couldn’t quite handle this, so he left. I’m... _we’re_...on our own.”

George made a sympathetic sound, touching one of Pansy’s long, dark curls. “Well, that’s a shame...a lovely thing like you on your own. He didn’t like that you were a witch?”

“He didn’t know.” Pansy confessed. “We hadn’t been together long enough for me to consider telling him that yet. Then I told him I was pregnant and he bolted. My magic wasn’t even a factor.”

“Even more of a shame when a man’s not man enough to keep hold of a woman as beautiful as you when she’s carrying his child.” George smiled charmingly, blue eyes twinkling. “I’m handy to have around a baby, you know. Have dinner with me.”

Pansy opened her mouth to refuse, then stopped. Why should she? She wasn’t dating anyone, he knew about the baby, she liked him...there was nothing to stop her. So she let her lips curve up and said. “Yes. I’d like that, I think.”

George grinned back and Pansy’s heart stuttered a little; she liked the way this man made her feel. A sudden thought had her frowning. “You said Potter hasn’t told you who the father is?” George nodded, looking unconcerned, and she prodded. “Why? Isn’t he around?”

“He doesn’t know about the baby, according to what Harry’s said.” George laughed when Pansy looked utterly shocked. “Yes, well. Apparently the mystery-man was a bit drunk and doesn’t remember spending the night with Harry, so Harry hasn’t seen fit to enlighten him.”

“Oh. Well, I can understand that.” Pansy conceded the point with a little nod. “If a man is too pissed to remember spending the night with me, then it’s his loss.”

George chuckled and Pansy smiled, then froze. Her eyes widened and her mouth fell open. George thought she looked like someone had just told her the moon really _was_ made of cheese. “What?”

“The Christmas party...” She gasped, nearly dropping the doll in her shock but tightening her grip on it at the last second. It started to cry again and Pansy absently began to rock, patting its back, still gaping at George in stunned disbelief. “Potter’s lover...it was the Christmas party, wasn’t it?”

George nodded hesitantly. “I believe so. Why?”

“Draco...” Pansy breathed the name, her cobalt eyes still as wide as they could go. “His memory of the evening is all fuzzy, of course, and he said he thinks the man had blue eyes, but green’s close to blue, isn’t it, so that’s an easy mistake to make. Dark hair, shorter than him, fit...missing when he woke up...”

George’s eyebrows had flown up into his hairline and he murmured. “You’re saying _Malfoy_ is the one who shagged Harry? Well, then I can see why he’s been so tetchy in these classes, what with us assuming you and Malfoy were a happy little couple and all.”

Pansy worried her full lower lip with her teeth, stopping when George grasped her chin lightly and ran his thumb over the lush, abused curve. “Hey, now, don’t hurt yourself. What’s going through that devious Slytherin mind of yours, pet?”

Pansy smiled and there was a wickedness to it that made George’s heart race. “I’m thinking you and I need to cut class next week. I just bet our instructor would pair them up. And if they get to talking...”

“Especially if I let it slip that you’re not dating Malfoy.” George added, latching onto the idea. “You should mention that Harry’s not with me, as well. Get Malfoy thinking about Harry’s ‘mystery lover’ if you can. Maybe we can get him to make the connection on his own.”

“Of course.” Pansy’s smile deepened and she leaned in, purring. “And while we’re cutting, you can take me out to dinner. If it goes well...maybe I’ll invite you home with me.” She added a saucy little wink, feeling sexy for the first time in months.

“It will be my pleasure.” George assured her. He winked back and added. “I look forward to a tour of your flat, darling.”

Pansy laughed, delighted with this particular Weasley. She bounced the still-silent doll, enjoying the way George’s eyes moved over her rounding body, and decided he just might do.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

Harry slipped into the childbirth classroom, his eyes darting around the room almost anxiously. It was his first time facing the class alone and he wasn’t pleased. Harry went straight to his usual spot, curling up on a cushion. He wasn’t quite sure why George wasn’t coming – the man had been oddly vague – but it didn’t much matter. What had taken more of Harry’s attention was George’s certainty that Pansy was _not_ pregnant with Draco’s child, nor was she dating Draco. Harry knew that, considering that fact, he really ought to reconsider telling Draco the truth. But he just didn’t know how.

When Draco stomped into the classroom a few minutes later – _without_ Pansy Parkinson – Harry was too engrossed in his thoughts to even notice. Their instructor noticed, though, and immediately directed Draco to sit with Harry for the day. Draco grumbled and protested for a minute, but in the end he conceded. He had promised Pansy, after all, that he’d be on his best behavior since she wasn’t able to make it to class. She had informed him – rather snottily – that if she returned to find out he’d been banned from class, she’d castrate him in his sleep.

Draco was smart enough to know when she was bluffing. She hadn’t been.

So Draco sat down beside Harry, making a show of ignoring the other man while surreptitiously studying him. Because, despite Pansy’s casual comments about Harry and George Weasley _not_ being together, Draco wasn’t entirely sure he believed it. But if Pansy was right, then Harry had a mystery lover out there…and Draco was curious enough to wonder about it.

And if Harry really had met up with the man-in-question at the Ministry Christmas Party, then there was a chance that Draco had seen them together. He just had to remember it. Draco liked puzzles and mysteries; it was why he’d become an Unspeakable, after all. And this was a suitably distracting one. If nothing else, it would be juicy gossip if he could figure it out.

When Harry finally realized who was sitting beside him – _after_ his teacher handed him the crying doll wrapped in a blue blanket – his eyes almost fell out of his head. “Er, why are you sitting here, Malfoy?” Okay, so it wasn’t exactly tactful…but Harry wasn’t known for his tact.

Draco raised an eyebrow at the rude question and answered in a drawl. “Because, Potter, we are both partner-less today and our instructor wishes for us to work together. If you have an issue with it, take it up with her.”

“Oh.” Harry chewed on his lip for a moment, then shook his head minutely. “No, it’s fine. Just…don’t expect a lot of conversation or anything.”

Draco sneered even as he watched Harry struggle to quiet the screaming, squirming doll. “Too good to talk to the likes of me, Potter?”

“What?” Harry glanced over at Draco and the blonde noticed with surprise that Harry’s face was pale and drawn, and the tense pull to his mouth was a sign of pain. There was a slightly-glassy look to Harry’s vibrant eyes as well. “No, I just…dammit, this bloody doll…my head was hurting _before_ this thing started wailing in my face!”

Draco made a tsking sound and lifted the doll from Harry’s arms. He immediately cast a couple of charms at the thing. One held the bottle in its mouth while the second rocked the baby in mid-air. Noticing Harry’s wide-eyes, Draco’s lips twitched upwards. “Mother showed them to me, to teach Pansy. I think she’ll find them quite handy as she’s not got much experience with babies.”

“I think that’s cheating.” Harry pointed out, but there was an edge of relief to his voice since the doll had stopped crying.

Draco’s lips curved wickedly and he purred. “I don’t give a fig, Potter. And I’ve got a feeling you don’t much care, either. The thing stopped crying, didn’t it? And the spells are safe. Mother used them on me, after all.”

Harry smiled slightly back, then asked softly. “Any chance you can teach them to me? I wouldn’t use them all the time, mind you, but for days like today when my head is pounding…”

“I suppose I can show them to you.” Draco allowed, mostly because of the fact that Harry was so clearly in pain and suffering. Then, feeling generous, he added. “Would you like me to help with your headache?”

“I was told I can’t use any spells or potions for it.” Harry explained, assuming that Draco was offering one of the usually remedies. “But thank you anyway.”

He jumped when Draco shifted behind him, his fingers pressing firmly into Harry’s temples as he murmured soothingly. “I wasn’t offering a spell or potion, Potter. Just relax.”

Harry was going to protest; he really was. But Draco’s fingers were moving and pressing and somehow the pain was easing. When they carded through his hair, still pressing and soothing, Harry couldn’t help the soft sigh of pleasure he let out. Draco Malfoy’s fingers were _magic_. The pain and tension was easing and Harry’s eyes closed, his head falling forward so his chin touched his chest.

Draco smiled at the way Harry relaxed under his hands. Draco just couldn’t bring himself to be mean in the face of a pregnant, weary, headache-suffering Harry Potter. So he let his fingers stroke down the back of Harry’s neck, seeking out the knotted muscles and kneading them into submission. Harry’s breath shuddered out on a groan as Draco’s hands curled over Harry’s collarbones, his thumbs dragging firmly down the nape of Harry’s neck.

“Oh fuck, Malfoy, that feels _amazing_ …” Harry said in a low, husky groan.

Draco froze, his mouth falling open in shock, as a memory slammed into place.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

_“Oh fuck…Draco…” The man below Draco arched up into him, his voice a breathless, husky murmur. “I can’t…fuck…you’re amazing…”_

_Draco rolled his hips, watching as the man’s gorgeous green eyes went wide, then rolled back in his head. He writhed beneath Draco, his black hair a startling contrast to Draco’s pristine white sheets, his sweat-slicked golden skin glowing in the firelight. Draco leaned down to scrape his teeth over the line of the man’s jaw, sweat and soap and the acrid burn of cologne stinging his tongue as he tasted that gorgeous skin._

_Then he murmured in the man’s ear. “Didn’t you think I would be, Harry? Isn’t that why you came home with me?”_

_Harry laughed breathlessly, then moaned, admitting. “I didn’t really know…but I figured it was worth a shot. And you couldn’t…oh fuck, yes, like that, Draco…” Harry stopped to gasp and squirm as Draco kept thrusting into him, then managed. “You couldn’t be worse than…than that awful party…”_

_Then Harry couldn’t speak anymore; he was solely focused on what Draco was doing to him. And Draco did his best to make Harry Potter come undone beneath him._

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

Draco blinked, shaking off the memory – the first _full_ memory he had of the night of the Christmas party and the man he’d taken home. The man who was currently looking at him with concern in those huge emerald eyes. “You…” He gasped, trembling as the implications sank in. “ _You…_ ”

Harry’s eyes widened and fear chased worry from his face. “Malfoy, I…”

“You _left!”_ Draco hissed, mindful of the others in the room who would likely be only too happy to tell such titillating gossip to the Daily Prophet. “You _left_ and I looked for you…but I couldn’t _remember_ , not clearly, and I had no idea it was _you_.” Draco couldn’t seem to stop shaking and he didn’t even know if it was anger or shock causing the tremors.

“I’m sorry…” Harry whispered back, dropping his eyes. “You have to understand. I…I didn’t know if you’d be angry or…or what. And then you clearly didn’t remember and I just…I didn’t know how to say it.”

Draco swallowed hard, feeling bile slicking his throat as one of Harry’s hands came up to rest protectively on the full curve of his stomach. “The baby…”

Harry looked up, shame shining in his eyes, and said brokenly. “I didn’t…I _wanted_ to tell you. But you didn’t remember…and I couldn’t…I was so afraid…and then, you were here, with Pansy, and I thought…I mean, I _assumed_ …”

“And that gives you the right?” Draco bit out, his eyes narrowing as his voice got louder. “You should have told me! Dammit, Potter, I’ve got a right to know something like that!”

“Please…” Harry whimpered the word, his eyes darting anxiously around the room. “Not here. Please, let’s not do this here…”

“Oh no, for Salazar’s sake, not _here!”_ Draco spat, not bothering to lower his voice this time. The fury clawing at his chest was too strong for that. “Merlin forbid anyone find out, right? Wouldn’t want this to _taint_ you, now would we?”

Tears stung Harry’s eyes, but they were born of anger, not sadness. Suddenly not caring who heard what, Harry snapped back. “Don’t even fucking try that, Malfoy! I don’t give a _shit_ who knows. _You_ were the one I was afraid to tell. Everyone else can bugger themselves for all I care.”

“Somehow, I find that hard to believe.” Draco retorted and for the first time Harry registered the pain in those grey eyes. “You’ve _never_ been afraid of me, Potter.”

“Not of _you_.” Harry retorted, pushing up onto his knees, still facing Draco. “Of what you make me feel…of what you might _not_ feel. Of _this_ …” Then, uncaring about their audience, Harry surged forward and slammed his mouth into Draco’s.

Draco jerked back almost instantly, his hands coming up to Harry’s shoulders when the smaller man nearly unbalanced. He stared into those wide, fearful eyes and took in that full, trembling mouth, then smirked, his anger melting away. “You _love_ me, don’t you, Potter?”

Harry’s mouth moved soundlessly a few times, then he raised his chin and said defiantly. “And what if I do? What are you going to do about it, Malfoy?”

Draco’s answer was to lean down and recapture Harry’s mouth.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

_**Epilogue :** _

Harry stifled a laugh as the Muggle clown he’d hired for his son’s sixth birthday party ran screaming from the yard. Forcing his mouth into a stern, disapproving line, he frowned down at the group of children gathered. “Which one of you was it?”

Ten children - ranging from Harry’s eleven year old godson, Teddy to Ron and Hermione’s three year old daughter, Rose - stared up at him with wide, innocent eyes. “No, I’ll have none of that. Who frightened the clown and how did they do it?”

It was six year old Anna - Pansy’s daughter, whom George had adopted when he’d finally convinced the witch to marry him after two years - who finally answered. “Uncle Dwaco did it, Uncle Hawwy. He used his wand.” She pointed to emphasize her accusation. 

Harry turned to see Draco twirling his wand carelessly, a sly smile curving his lips. “He wasn’t being very interesting, love. I just brought one of the balloon animals to life. I didn’t expect him to react quite so...dramatically.”

“It was funny!” Altair grinned wickedly, looking very much like Harry imagined Draco had at his age, despite the green eyes he sported. “Don’t be mad, Daddy!”

“Yeah, don’t be mad, Daddy...” Draco purred, wiggling his eyebrows. 

Harry couldn’t stop his lips from curving upwards and he rolled his eyes. “I don’t know why I even bothered trying to hire a Muggle. I should’ve known you couldn’t behave yourself. You’re incorrigible!”

Draco walked over to his husband and kissed him softly on the lips. “Yes, but that’s why you love me.” He then lightly patted Harry’s stomach and added. “How’re you feeling?”

“Don’t hover, Draco!” Pansy’s admonishment had Draco sticking his tongue out at his best friend, who was rocking her four-month old son, little Freddie. “Pregnant people need _space_ , not smothering.”

“Here, here.” Hermione chimed in, bouncing her one year old son, Hugo, on her hip and smiling. “I don’t know _why_ men think breathing down our necks helps anything.”

Ron, George, and Draco all flushed, but Harry just smiled. “It’s because they don’t know what it’s like, so they worry all the time.” He leaned into Draco and added. “I don’t mind it much.”

“Good.” Draco replied, winding himself around Harry, murmuring. “Because I intend to continue hovering, smothering, and breathing down your neck any time you’re with child.”

Harry laughed, feeling completely content, and replied. “That’s just fine with me.”

 **_~ The End ~_**


End file.
